The Thirty Second Battle of the Archenar System
1488 "Commander on deck!" announced the Commodore, greeting the Countess with a quick bow as she strode onto the bridge. The crew stood at their stations and saluted. "That will do," replied the Countess, greeting the command staff with a cursory salute. The crew promptly resumed their stations. The Countess surveyed the bridge coolly. A long, dark hall in the Neo-Gothic style of the Golden Empire- high, vaulted ceilings coated in bronze, rows of cognition engines manned by staff officers, panoramic windows decorated with intricate latticework. The Countess smirked as she watched the crew- her crew- bustle about. Katarine Valacious Pauline Hildegaard von Grindehook, first of her name, Arch-Chancellor of the Valyrian Diet, by right of birth Countess of all Xaxus Secundus and Margravine of Garyth-on-Valyrius, and newly elected Protector of the Realm, subject to all of the privileges and duties of that exalted station, found that she was enjoying her new role at the head of the Ducal military. "Commodore Quarl, appraise me." she said. "My lady," he answered, adjusting his monocle and pulling absently at his elaborate side whiskers, "No updates since this morning. The fleet stands assembled and ready, as ordered. Should the rabble translate at Tyrol's Folly or on the far side of Odros, we are in position to intercept them. The Prognosticators haven't picked up any sign of them so far." "Very good, Commodore. We can expect they'll translate at the Folly within the next forty eight hours." the Countess replied. "So your ladyship says." answered the Commodore, deferentially. He clearly had his doubts. Tyrol's Folly was at the very edge of the Archenar system, a grav-dense spot around the wreckage of several freetrader ships- the largest of them named the Tyrol- which had, some time ago, attempted to traverse Ducal Space without paying the requisite Hospitality Fees. The Ducal Navy had left the wreckage to serve as a warning. Commodore Quarl was of the opinion that the barbarian fleet would translate further in-system, as they did when raiding. He had spent his life fighting off raiders and pirates, and he thought like them. But the Countess knew King Avikogericix wasn't coming to raid this time. He was coming to conquer. And like any conqueror of old he would form up his fleet at the edge of the system, and proceed inward, broadcasting ultimatums. The barbarian king thought himself emperor, and this time he would fight like an emperor. The Countess took her seat in the Command Throne; Commodore Quarl resumed his post. Katarine von Grindehook was, by all accounts, a formidable human being. A tall, pale woman with dark eyes and darker hair, she had lost none of the severe beauty of her youth. Her white naval uniform did not gleam with her father's ( mostly ceremonial and unearned) metals, as tradition permitted her to wear, but was instead decorated with a single silver sunburst, a minor award given her by the Diet for her successful suppression of the Rhadast Uprising on Xaxus Secudus. This was probably the most daring venture the Imperial Grand Duchy of Far Valyrius had undertaken in three centuries (if one counted the Aurolian debacle as daring, which it wasn't). And it was being led by a military novice. Intelligence from free traders and mercenary hirelings had it that the Astrogoths around November IX had recovered a new ship, a big one. King Avikogericix - self proclaimed king of all the Goths and the rightful Emperor- had stumbled across a mostly intact Imperial battleship- named, in Imperial times, the Demiurge- marooned somewhere in the Fay'ud Asteroid Belt. It had taken the bastard two decades and the lives of three million slaves, but the lunatic King had finally extracted his prize from the asteroids and- what's more!- gotten the thing running. The barbarians were brutal and almost totally insane, but they had a knack with the old tech. Avikogericix 's new prize had gotten to his head, apparently, because he dispatched envoys to the Grand Duchy, demanding a show of obeisance and a doubling of the bribes- he called it tribute!- in slaves and grain. Some in the Diet- the usual crowd of nail-biters, lickspittles and fools who wielded an influence all out of proportion with their meager intelligence- had been inclined to acquiesce rather than risk a war with the Goths....but they had been overruled. The Countess and her allies had lobbied hard for rebuffing the envoys and provoking the barbarians attack with their new weapon now before they got any stronger or any more ambitious. The appeasers didn't have the votes to overrule the Countess, so out of spite they nominated her Protector of the Realm, thinking an undecorated woman would try to back out of the nomination. She didn't, she had accepted immediately. Her opponents had too cleverly handed her the very power she wanted. It was beautiful. The Countess pushed such recollections from her mind. Now was no time for dwelling on politics. She leaned back in the Throne; her shoulders untensed as her neural uplink passed the layered security checks and joined with the ship's Semi-Sentience. For a brief, deliriously delicious moment, she was the ancient warship. Over eight kilometers of reinforced Imperial adamantium circling contentedly in lazy high orbit, millennia-old engines thrumming with unimaginable power, more than forty six thousand gun batteries- from single point defenses to massive back-breaker cannons filled with depleted thuridium shells- awaiting a target, thousands of docked fighter-bombers, their computer systems tense and waiting launch. The Ancestral Right. This was what it was to be a god, the Countess thought, pulling herself (with an aching sense of loss) from full immersion in the Semi-Sentience. Her heartbeat slowing, she reviewed the data streaming directly from the ship's sensors into her mind. The task force was in high orbit over Odros II, twenty five Golden Empire ships of the line- heavy cruisers and battlecarriers all- in close formation around the Ancestral Right ''and her even larger sister, the forbidding battleship ''Archduke Leopold. Anti-fighter frigates and destroyer squadrons patrolled between the serrated-dagger shapes of the heavy cruisers and their larger capital ship cousins. The Countess was reviewing a file of tactical recommendations from the fleet's captains when a data blurt from the Prognosticator Deck erupted directly into her consciousness. Fleet inbound, sub-space bow-waves indicated Tyrol's Folly as the likely translation point. The Countess frowned for a moment, the Prognosticators put the hostiles' vacuum-displacement at over double the amount projected by Naval Intelligence. She stood as the bridge crew scrambled into action, the Commodore issuing a stream of orders. Outside, in the silence of the vacuum, engines ignited across the Duchy fleet, and shield primers flickered as they charged. Frigates and destroyers fell into tight formations around the cruisers. "My lady?" asked the Commodore. "Form up. Make for the Folly." "Yes ma'am." Two Hours Later The Countess leaned forward in the Command Throne, her mind divided between the ship's Semi-Sentience, which fed her a constant stream of updated data, and the activity on the bridge. Naval staff bustled to and fro and the Commodore paced, tugging at his side whiskers and barking the occasional order. They were half an hour out from the Folly. The Astrogoth fleet had just translated to realspace and was forming up to meet the Ducal taskforce. Naval Intelligence had bungled, badly. It had reported that the Astrogoth's new ship, the Demiurge, was a Hadrian class Imperial Battleship, of the same size and firepower as the Archduke Leopold...The Demiurge that had just arrived in the Archenar system, however, was an Imperatrix class superbattleship, easily two and a half times the length of the Leopold. Needless to say, the Duchy battle plan was in the process of revision. The original strategy had been for the Archduke Leopold and five escort vessels to smash into the center of the barbarian line and neutralize the Demiurge, while the rest of the Ducal fleet decimated the enemy's left flank and then repositioned to take the right. The Countess' new plan was simple and brutal. The whole Ducal taskforce would hit the center of the barbarian line, passing on one side of the Demiurge in order to deny the monstrosity it's full firepower. Many would die. The outcome was far from certain. What had begun as a trap for the overconfident barbarians could now very well end up in total military disaster. If she survived this, the Countess mused, she would have the entire leadership of Naval Intelligence hanged in Vymar Square, in plain view of the Diet. The Ducal fleet assumed its final offensive formation, the battlecruisers Count van Fesselvingen, Arnulf and Son of Secundus leading the Archduke Leopold '' and the ''Ancestral Right in the line of battle. The rest of the task force followed in long, serried rows. Hopefully the combined firepower of the Leopold and the Right would be enough to pop the Demiurge 's shields, and the heavy cruisers could pour their firepower directly onto the beast's hull. Hopefully. Then there was the rest of the barbarian fleet to worry about, arranged around the Demiurge like scavengers hovering around a great and ancient predator. They were a motley ensemble of old Imperial cruisers and homespun weapons platforms, crude but dangerous. The Countess pushed such thoughts from her mind. She had one task now, overloading the Demiurge's shield array. "Shields up, strike craft launch." barked Quarl. A bright blue flash illumined the bridge windows for a half-second, as the Ancestral Right's shields ignited. All along the Duchy fleet, fighter-bombers launched from shipboard hangers as shields enveloped the venerable ships of the Duchy navy. The barbarian fleet powered forward to meet their civilized foes, broadcasting crude warcries on the open comm-channels. The Countess studied the holographic render of the enemy fleet projected in front of the Command Throne. Many of the barbarian ships leaked atmosphere and radiation from untended armor joints, and it appeared that the Demiurge still had scaffolding clinging to its ancient, dagger-shaped hull from Avikogericix's hasty restoration. "Enemy fleet entering mass driver range in five." Alarms sounded in the bridge as sensors picked up multiple enemy lock-ons. The Countess stood and opened the Duchy comm-channel. "Gentlemen," she said tersely, addressing her captains, "Our whole way of life hinges on this fight. We will not be bowed by a rabble of cut throats and goths, no matter the size of their ships. We are the heirs of the Empire, the rightful and true lords of the cosmos, let us not stain the honor of our ancestors here. Crush these shitbrained peons. That is all." The comm channel resounded with "ayes!" and "yes madam Countess!". Then the bloodletting began. The fleets came within maximum strike range and opened up with long range mass-volleys and lance fire. The forward guns on the Right gutted three goth frigates in the first minutes of the fight, while the heavier artillery on the Leopold cut a barbarian cruiser in half.' ' The Demiurge sent an incredible hail of poorly aimed fire into the Duchy fleet, and scored solid hits; the Count van Fesselvingen took a mass-round to the nose, and sped on towards the enemy trailing hunks of armor, while the flak frigates Minos and Raptor were simply vaporized by a volley from the supercapital ship. The artillery duel intensified as the fleets closed with one another, the barbarians lost three more cruisers and the Duchy eight frigates, with other ships from both sides suffering significant damage. The Countess suppressed a twinge of panic as the Demiurge loomed ever closer in on the holographic battle display in the center of the bridge, and as the Right's shields deflected heavier and heavier fire. She glanced at the Commodore, whose bewhiskered face was bright red... but who was otherwise calm, sedately polishing his monocle and shouting the occasional order. "Mister Ryloth, ready the back breakers," he said as the fleets drew within primary ordinance range. Outside, in the vacuum, the ducal and gothic strike craft wings met just as the ducal ships launched their first torpedo waves. Nuclear detonations and EMP bursts erupted along the barbarian line... and then the two fleets collided. The void was alight with tracer fire and heavy laser and ordinance exchanges. The ducal ships made their pass to the port side of the Demiurge, raking the monstrosity with fire. The supership's guns remained silent a moment, enough time for the Countess to allow herself the hope that it was suffering a massive malfunction. The Demiurge's first broadside obliterated the Son of Secondus and took out the bridge tower on the Arnulf. It's shields popped by the onslaught, the Archduke Leopold returned fire vigorously as explosions erupted along its serrated-dagger hull. The Countess watched in horror as her fleet reeled under the Demiurge's unceasing fire. For its part, the supership's shields were beginning to buckle under the sustained fire of over twenty ships of the line. For a few agonizingly long minutes, the fleets simply brawled. The Archduke Leopold restored its shields just in time to absorb a mass-driver volley that would have gutted it, and the Ancestral Right launched its reserve heavy bomber waves in a practical suicide run at the supership's shield capacitors. Separated from its flagship by the Duchy task force, the left flank of the goth fleet disintegrated; the barbarian cruisers and frigates were simply outclassed by the heavy guns of the duchy lines. Commodore Quarl grunted as two more duchy battlecruisers- the Borcas and Lionhead disappeared from the bridge's strategic holo-display. With a frown, he turned to the Countess to discuss withdrawal options. Then it happened. The Demiurge's shields, much weaker than they could have been thanks to the gothic king's rushed refit, popped in a brilliant azure explosion that showered both fleets in incredible levels of radiation. The armor of the supership's port side withstood a full minute under the guns of the ducal task force before simply vanishing. Explosions ripped up and down the length of the Demiurge, which began to drift wildly. The barbarian right flank, which had been circling to engage the duchy fleet, simply turned and fled. The Thirty Second Battle of the Archenar System, the first since the collapse of the Empire, was over. The Countess smirked and sat back in her Command Throne. Wheels immediately began turning in her cool, precise mind. There was nothing the old guard in the Diet could do to her now, not after this victory. Imperial Grand Duchy of Far Valyrius was hers. Category:The Duchy